Gasoline
by Sketchy Wasteland
Summary: Tony has always had trouble with a father named Roy. It wasn't until the day Roy brought in a loaded gun that Tony realized how deranged the man actually was.


Tony sat in the teacher's lounge, idly reading a book about mathematics. Other teachers chatted around him, their conversations mostly revolving around the students. One particular teacher, a woman named Ms. Paige, complained loudly about three students that were failing her art class. Tony cocked their head toward them, narrowing his eyes when she spoke their names. He then shook his head and tilted his head back toward his book.

 _Harry, Birb,_ and _Manny_.

Tony was not surprised.

Those children were in his class. The trio grated all of the teachers' nerves to some extent. They were all aggravating in some way or form. For example, Manny, a boy with a bizarre skin condition and strikingly blue hair, was unbelievably slow both physically and mentally. While the physical aspect didn't particularly affect the teacher, the mental handicap made the man want to tear out his hair in frustration. Manny was incapable of understanding the importance of history, why it's important to learn and study it. Honestly, the refusal shouldn't phase Tony, but whenever the boy asked his companions when they would leave class, he wanted nothing more than to toss the child out of his class. Harsh, he admitted. But something about that boy irritated the fuck out of him.

In contrast, Harry was his favorite student.

The large boy wasn't actually supposed to be in Manny and Birb's class or grade. He was supposed to be a senior in high school, not an eighth grader. Harry never told anyone why he bothered staying behind and monitoring the smaller boys. In fact, he barely spoke at all, and that's what made Tony enjoy his company so much. Harry simply stayed quiet, watching over his younger friends like a loyal hound. He was much more tolerable compared to the chatty Birb or the slow Manny.

Strangely, he hasn't seen the three children as of late. They hadn't been attending school in at least a week and that fact made him a bit worried. However, he trusted that the school was taking care of their disappearance, or, at least, the parents of the trio had a valid excuse for their lack in attendance.

Tony sighed as the ear-splitting screech of the bell pierced the air. The man stood, gathering his book into his arms and trailing behind the rest of the teachers. Most were now grumbling about the teacher-parent conference that was ahead. It was the end of the day, after all. The 45-minute break had served only to aggravate the teachers further as they prepared to go talk to the cranky parents that no doubt awaited them.

The man paced into his classroom, momentarily waving to his friend, Colin, as he entered the computer lab. The other teacher looked already exhausted, his glasses sitting sideways and his green eyes dull. Tony shook his head and walked into his classroom, flicking on the lights, setting down his book, and sitting down in his swivel chair, scooting forward.

He begrudgingly shuffled his papers together, listing off each parents' name and writing notes on the side off each name. He was eventually forced to look up from his work when he saw a parent awkwardly slide into the overly organized room, glancing at him with questioning look. Tony fought back the temptation to snort and motioned the parent to sit down.

Time to get this over with...

 **xXx**

The last person Tony had to meet with was the worst parent he had ever encountered. Rude, creepy, and suffocatingly overprotective were traits that could sum him up in a heartbeat. He, of course, was the only parent of Manny and Birb, Birb being the adopted child. The father, Roy, was creepily obsessed with Manny's progress, stalking his boy's grades and constantly calling Tony and demanding that the teacher add points to his son's grade. It was a demand Tony always refused to fulfill, especially when he noticed how Roy treated Birb.

Roy didn't care for Birb.

He never bothered to listen to Birb's report. Whenever Tony had brought it up in the past, the man would immediately bring up Manny. It frustrated Tony to no end. However, the man learned to mostly ignore Roy and his never-ending idiocy, focusing on telling the father about both children.

This time, though, Roy insisted on hushing the teacher, forcing Tony sit back and listen to the madman. The teacher huffed and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but suddenly went quiet when he saw a strange glint in the man's eyes. It was a raw, raging flame that made the taller man shudder.

Then, Tony noticed a very, very disturbing change in Roy's demeanor. Sure, he was still the dirty, odorous man that he always was, but he had a sudden switch in position. Originally, he had moved like a madman when they had talked. He had shifted from side to side, his clammy hands clenching and relaxing, his eyes always revealing a small sliver of emotion.

Now...

Now, Roy was composed. He barely twitched a muscle, his arms and legs folded neatly, tensed as if he were a snake waiting to strike his prey. His eyes mirrored a blank confidence and his entire being barely moved except for his mouth. And what came out of Roy's mouth horrified Tony.

He started talking about how he required private tutors to teach his children at home, and ones that only taught them. Tony tried to protest to the statement, but when unsheathed a gleaming pistol, the teacher snapped his jaw shut. Despite being more than a foot taller than the father, the man would never risk the chance of getting shot during a fight. Roy seemed pleased at the compliance of the teacher and continued on his monologue. He explained that his children needed _proper_ education about things they didn't understand, and that would require days and days of tutoring. The teacher needed to stay inside their house, isolated from the world as he devoted his sole attention to Roy's children.

Tony wanted to snap at the mad father, but couldn't muster the courage to do so as he glanced at the gun. So, he told the man as gently as he could that he couldn't stay inside Roy's home, couldn't abandon his job just to slave over two of his charges. He had other responsibilities. He needed to look over his other pupils, go home and care for his cat, communicate with his elderly parents. The teacher couldn't go with Roy.

The composed madman went stock-still at that declaration. His eyes went completely blank and the history teacher felt raw fear crawl into his chest as Roy's eyes flickered toward the loaded pistol. Before Tony could even muster out a scream, the madman leapt forward and slammed the handle of the firearm against the side of the teacher's head. He let out a strangled cry as the blow knocked him slightly back. The teacher already felt blood dribble down his temple and he let out a weak hiss as white and black dots obscured most of his vision. He barely noticed Roy stand up and pace toward him, bloody pistol still in hand. With another swing, Tony saw the dots expand and leave him with little, only with the darkness and the sharp pain in his skull.

 **xXx**

Tony woke with a muffled groan. His skull felt rattled and his mind struggled to surface. Everything ached, particularly around his arms, legs, and head. The history teacher slowly lifted his head, only to hit the walls of a trunk. He let out a groan and attempted to move his right arm only to discover that it was insanely difficult to do so. Through fatigue and pain, the man's muddled mind could make out vague details of the trunk he was in and the tight binding encompassing his entire body. The teacher had no choice but to lie there and listen to the rumbling of the car as it travelled from pavement to gravel and finally to bare ground. The sounds and closed space made the teacher feel claustrophobic and he squirmed in his binding, trying to find more room in the cramped compartment. He rattled and bumped into many metallic objects and eventually managed to kick something warm, fleshy.

A body.

The history teacher peered into the darkness and tried to recognize who exactly it was, but couldn't distinguish any discerning features. All he could tell was that the body was breathing in harsh rasps and that the figure was smaller than him. A child, perhaps. The thought made him shudder. Roy might, probably had dragged a child into this. Maybe even kidnapped a poor child.

How... how _despicable_.

About thirty minutes had passed before he felt the vehicle jolt to a halt. The teacher ended up colliding with the body to the side of him and he winced in pain. Tony listened intently as someone slammed a car door closed and paced over to the trunk, another set of footsteps trailing after the first pair.

With a sharp snap, the trunk door swung upward, revealing the teacher to the two beings. Roy stood by the edge of the trunk, staring intensely at the frightened teacher as he shifted in the cramp cell. A second person, a scraggly man with a wide, toothless smile, leered at both the teacher and the other person beside him. The scraggly man asked Roy in a rough voice who to take. The madman simply replied that he would take Tony while 'Bear' would take Paige.

The history teacher nearly jumped at the name and he craned his neck backward, staring wide-eyed at his coworker. Now, it made sense. The small frame, the raspy breathing. Paige had always been short and underweight, almost pencil-thin. She also had an unknown breathing problem that made her breathe heavily once in a while. From what he could see, she was still wearing her work clothes, her smock and beret. Paint splatters were covering the two black garnets, meaning that she was interrupted while she was still working.

Tony choked.

Did Roy want her for the same reason he wanted him?

A small part of him hoped that that was true.

Roy leaned down and gripped a handful of Tony's binding, pulling him out of the trunk and dropping him onto the ground with a loud _thump_. The teacher bit back a groan of agony as the madman grabbed the teacher's feet and started to drag him toward an unknown destination. Tony felt dirt, leaves, sticks tangle and clump in his black hair and in-between the edges of the ropes. When he dug his head into the ground and glanced upward, Tony could see the scruff man picking up Paige and following Roy. Bear's eyes gleamed down and stared directly into the teacher's blue orbs, and Tony felt a lump form in his throat. The man's gaze was utterly inhuman, filled with only some sort of psychotic happiness seeing the teachers suffer.

The man broke eye contact with the maniac, instead focusing on mapping the area.

There was only forest.

Tony could hear tiny animals scurry throughout the lush brush. He could see bright green leaves flutter above him, held tight by spindly brown branches. Clouds could be seen peeking through the green as well as a clear blue. It was beautiful, but, of course, he did not pay attention to those details. No, he was scouring the woods for some sort of landmark.

There were none in sight.

There weren't any glimpses of buildings, planes, loud noises. All was an eerie calm. An unsettled feeling coiled around his heart, making it pound harder as adrenaline flooded his veins. Fight or flight mode was activated, but what could he possibly do? The rope held tight against the teacher, almost rendering him incapable of struggling. He still had a pounding headache and felt the crusts on his head wounds slowly being scraped off as branches scratched against his face. Even if he managed to get free, he would still have to fight off two individuals who were thicker as well as stronger than him. If he ran, he would have to abandon Paige, something that he was not willing to do. So, the history teacher had no choice but to allow the duo to drag them to the forest and, eventually, into a tiny shack.

The tiny shack was made completely out of wood. The inside was decorated with dusty, wooden ornaments that had layers of dust on top. The only room that didn't seem to hold so much dust was the kitchen, but even that was filled with grime and rodents scurrying about. The entire place had a horrible odor, an odor that was horrifyingly familiar to Tony.

 _The house smelled exactly like Roy_.

Tony didn't exactly want to ponder the implications of that fact, mostly because he was currently headed down a splintering staircase while still being dragged. The man's head hit every step while moving deeper and deeper into the inky darkness of the basement. When he finally reached the bottom step, his head felt like it was being split open and his entire body ached.

The lights flickered on, and Tony nearly screamed. His three students were beaten, blood and bruises covering their bodies. Harry had received most of the beating, blood dribbling down his chin and vomit crusted all over his clothing. Unfortunately, they weren't the only ones suffering at the hands of Roy and his accomplices. Several of his coworkers- Matt, Larry, even Colin- were all slumped against a wall, all tied up in thick rope. He could also spot two other kids who were restrained.

That wasn't even the worst part.

 _Every single one of them were hooked up to a machine._

Blinking helmets sat on their heads, fastened tight around their skulls. Marks could be seen right under the helmets, long, large marks. The marks were a dark color, nearing an ashen gray. They looked like... scorch marks. When Tony peered closer, yes, he knew they were scorch marks. Something must have hit the captives hard enough to leave a mark, but not enough to damage them permanently.

The helmets were connected to the machine through thick cords that intertwined at the base. The machine itself had blinking lights and a sort of TV screen. Tony couldn't exactly tell what the machine was for, but, do to the nature of the circumstances, he knew that it would cause some sort of damage.

And, to no surprise, Roy and Bear dragged the two teachers and shoved helmets onto their heads. Tony shivered in fear and slight disgust as Roy had to lean toward his face to do such an action. Everything about Roy set him off. Now, he wasn't just a parent that got on his nerves. No, now he was a terrifying psychopath that made Tony want to screech, run, do _something_. However, he could not. He was bound and he couldn't muster the courage to even scream. After all, what good would it do?

Tony's gaze followed Roy as he paced over to the machine and punched in commands, staring at the sole screen on the machinery. The teacher tensed as he felt a tingle of electricity trail up and down his spine. He quickly glanced at Bear, and noticed how unsettling he looked. A sinister, sadistic grin was twisted onto his lips and his posture was lax, as if he had seen the affects of the machine hundreds of times before. And, he probably had.

Tony almost screamed as a searing jolt of electricity slammed into him, forcing him to fall unconscious in one of the worst ways possible.

 **xXx**

When Tony awoke, he found it very difficult to move. His entire frame was stiff and his muscles wouldn't cooperate. Whenever he tried to move his fingers or toes, the command would get lost somewhere and he would have to try again. It was like he lacked his limbs, an idea even his groggy mind identified as idiotic. Of course he had limbs! He hadn't cut them off! ... had he?

Honestly, Tony didn't really know. He barely remembered anything. He recalled fuzzy shapes, yellow, brown, gray. The color yellow particularly hit him hard, for some reason. His mind screeched at him to stay away, avoid the yellow monster. What yellow monster? What is its name? His mind drew a blank.

Another thing he remembered is the fact that he was a teacher. Tony thought it was slightly strange that he thought of his profession before anything else. What teacher was he, again? Hist-

Tony's entire frame trembled as pain consumed him momentarily. He didn't understand why he felt such agony. _Uh, no_ , he thought as the pain faded. _While history is interesting, it's too narrow of a subject. Something like... time_ is better suited for his abilities. He supposed he should have felt confused at the sudden thought change, something was repressing his mind, making him forget about the whole entire incident.

After a while, Tony decided to attempt to move again. His muscles were beginning to ache and burn and he simply wanted to make himself feel, well, better. He slowly opened his eyes, startled at how heavy his eyelids felt. His hazy vision caught the sight of a dim, brightly colored room. The furniture was far away, as well as huge. His tired mind barely registered the fact that he was, in fact, suspended off the ground before his eyes snapped all the way open and he suddenly felt all of his earlier grogginess disappear. He let out a silent shriek as his legs snapped out of his body and pushed him off the wall he was on and onto the floor. He let out a few other silent screams as he flailed around in a panic.

Tony eventually calmed down, lying on the floor while examining his limbs.

His feet were shoes. He couldn't remove the white footwear nor could he move his toes. He wasn't too bothered by it. He couldn't feel through the shoes, so it just meant that he didn't need to worry about stubbed toes or injured feet that much. Tony's hands were gloves, of course, but he could vaguely feel textures using them. His limbs were long, thin, and a solid black. They sprouted from his thin body unnaturally and Tony felt slightly unnerved by the utter thinness of the limbs. While he couldn't exactly see his 'main body', he could feel that his 'nose' was very, very odd. Something much more unnatural than his arms and legs and that thought made his entire frame shudder. His nose was split into two spindly arrows that pointed in different directions. That was a huge hint at what exactly he was, but he couldn't just accept it. He needed physical proof.

A mirror.

To his surprise, Tony stood up with ease, as if he had walked with elongated limbs his entire life. He took a few steady steps forward before attempting to look around. Turning was absurdly difficult due to his lack of a neck. He literally needed to move his whole body just to look around without falling or tripping on his own spindly legs. Tony huffed in annoyance before setting out to find a bathroom.

Thankfully, a bathroom was right beside him in a second. He walked in and froze immediately when he flicked the lights on, his breath catching in his throat.

So.

It was true.

He was a clock.

A _clock_.

While he barely held any memories of his life, Tony knew that he never was a clock. He used to be a-

...

 _What did I use to be?_

 **xXx**

Tony quickly took notice of the three individuals living in the brightly colored house. They were strange looking, that was for sure. A red hairy man, a small green bird, and a yellow- _terrifying, deadly_ \- little boy. While the clock couldn't recall a time he ever held a conversation, he automatically knew that he loathed social interaction, especially with creatures that held the mindsets of children.

So, he hid in the shadows, posing as the clock in the living room. He learned quickly how to retract his limbs as well as keep quiet whenever the children walked by. He observed the trio, and couldn't help but feel a bout of nostalgia every time he saw them. Something about them was startling familiar even though he had never interacted with them before.

He also became aware that he was not the only sentient object in the house through them.

They had been sitting in the kitchen, preparing to eat their breakfast when a sketchbook just stood up from the table and started _singing_ to them. Tony had stared at them, peering around the corner of the hallway, baffled as the trio suddenly sung with her.

It was ridiculous, really. They were singing about _creativity_ , one of the simplest subjects in the world. They sung childishly at first, the sketchbook egging them on and trying convince them to be creative. The entire song was completely boring, so Tony was about to leave until the sketchbook scolded the yellow boy for thinking the color green was creative.

Something about that statement struck a cord in Tony. A strange sense of familiarity struck him, and he focused on the sketchbook, scrunching up his eyes when a memory tugged at his mind, desperately trying to gain his attention.

 _PAIGE_

Tony muffled a gasp when memories started to trickle in.

Paige- she was an art teacher. She was a very wonderful artist and loved to spend her time with children. She loved the color red, but utterly despised the color green, claiming that it was too "boring". She was a human, a very short one with a breathing problem and she was allergic to peanuts. Her voice matched sketchbook's exactly, but the sketchbook was a clump of paper while Paige was purely human. Something wasn't right, something wasn't adding up, especially when sketchbook's song slowly grew demented, convincing the children to harm others and hurt themselves and, eventually, to stop being creative all together.

After the song was done and the trio were gone, Tony was tempted to confront the clump of paper, but after what it had done...

The clock returned to his spot in the living room and shut down for the rest of the day, the constant tick of his innards lulling him to sleep.

 **xXx**

Tony didn't know exactly what woke him up. It was just a feeling he had deep inside of him, a feeling that brutally tore him from his dream and tossed him into consciousness while he was practically singing the statement, _There's always time for a song_.

Tony... was confused, to say the least. He had no idea _why_ he said that, nor why he was _smiling_ while said it. Apparently, the children didn't know either, as they were all confused. The red man even questioned who he was. Tony was about to answer his question, but was suddenly teleported in front of the TV, his demented smile growing as his internal workings chimed louder. It created a sort of a beat, a beat that was required to go along with the lyrics bubbling out of his throat.

The clock didn't know why he was singing. He would have rather preferred if they all settled down and let him explain about time in an orderly fashion. However, his body wasn't exactly responding to his command. The only things he could really do were change the lyrics a bit and change the positions his body was in.

As the song progressed, he found himself enjoying the singing. It brought forth a demented euphoria, and he soon found himself having the ability to sing more freely. The only thing that broke the euphoria was when the _god-damned children interrupted his song_.

Something about the interruptions angered him. The creepy yellow man butted into his song at least two times, the red man kept complaining on how they would miss their shows, the children started mucking around. He guessed it wasn't the worst thing in the world, but it made him want to grit his together, something he wasn't allowed to do. His anger rose as they interrupted more and more, breaking his lyrics, splintering the script.

He wasn't sure why he was so angry. Part of his mind knew that he wasn't like that, a person that lacked patience. The clock knew that it wasn't right, the malicious intent building inside him wasn't his own. It was like someone was controlling his very personality, switching off parts of his mind.

Before he even knew he was doing, Tony was screeching into the yellow boy's ears, making blood drip out of his ears.

The clock didn't feel guilty.

Not in the slightest.

Which, of course, led him to do an even heinous action; stand back and watch the children rot before his very eyes.

He couldn't do anything, really. He was merely a clock. He was only built to tell the time, and nothing more. Time was moving quickly, in a rate that degraded everything around him. If Tony was honest with himself, he would have admitted that even he felt the components inside of himself begin to rust and screech as they stuck to each other. However, he didn't feel any sympathy for the children. At the end of his song, he gave them a warning.

 _Don't worry, I'm sure you'll be fine, but eventually everyone runs out of time._

Which was true. But Tony didn't really want to teach them that in that way. He wanted to teach them about time, why it was a good idea to value every single second of every single day. He didn't... he didn't want them to fear the little time they had left.

At the end of the song, when the children left and sprinted to their rooms, Tony felt the guilt that had been smothered by mindless anger. He had... hurt his students. Teachers weren't supposed to do that. They were supposed to teach, something that he failed to do. What kind of teacher was he? What was he?

Tony wasn't a human.

He wasn't a teacher.

The only thing he was good at was being a clock.

So, he decided that that was it. He was being a clock.

Nothing more, nothing less.

* * *

 _"You can't wake up; this is not a dream. You're part of a machine. You are not a human being. With your face all made up, living on a screen. Low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline."_

 _-"Gasoline", Halsey_

* * *

 _A fanfic request made by TillyBananalover. I already had this sort of idea in my head, but xir pushed me to complete the idea into a fanfic._

 _This took about two days to accomplish between the internet drops I've been having._

 _Thank you for reading, and please review your thoughts on it. :)_


End file.
